War Stories

Cricket

Key Four: Cricket:

Most angels don't remember when they were human. Cricket does, however.

-Cricket-

I remember was born in Ireland. My early life is a foggy haze. I grew up in a bad neighbourhood, that much I remember. There was a mother and brother. I don't think there was a father. We didn't have any money. But, mum worked as hard as she could. I don't remember my family's faces or what they sounded like. Mum loved to sing. I don't know anything else about her. I don't know what happened to her either. I don't remember much about my brother either.

What do I remember?

It's quite hard to say. But, there is one memory that makes me shudder. I remember the night was violated.

I was fifteen the time. Maybe I was younger. This took place in a hot night in July. I think I was walking back from church at the time. Mum warned me not to walk home alone at night. At the time, the Irish mob overran the city. (Yes, they were a real thing. I think they still do, but only from the shadows.) They were some of the nastiest bastards out there. The town was almost poor because of them. They took food and milk and charged it too high. Young women were pimped out on the streets in the city. Most of the men ended up in the hospital because they crossed the mob in the wrong way. Children walking around at night disappeared. My neighbourhood grew worse because of the mob. It didn't help that wannabe gangsters were on the rise around that time. Those guys caused the worst trouble. Theft, destruction of property, violence. Mum talked about moving away at one point. Sadly, we didn't have the money at the time.

But, back to the point. How did I end up violated?

I don't want to tell it, but it has to come out.

It had gotten dark by the time I left church. I knew wasn't supposed to be walking home after dark. But, I needed to get home. I decided to take a quick shortcut in hopes of avoiding the mob or the gangs. Initially, I planned on walking along the lit street. It would be longer, but at least it wouldn't be dark.

"Heading home that way?" a nun asked as I started leaving the dried church garden.

"Yes," I said.

"That looks like a long way to go," she said. "I would feel better if you took a quicker way home."

"But..." I said.

"I will get you a lantern to walk with," the nun said. She walked into the church. When she came back, she handed me a bright orange lantern. The nun lit up the inside.

"There," she said. "Take the street down Commonwell. It will get you there faster."

"Thank you," I said. I turned and walked out of the garden. During the day, this path wasn't so bad. It doesn't even look that long. I've been down this path many times. I even have it drawn out in my head. Walk out of the church garden, go right, go through the alley behind the Red Iris pub, squeeze through a hole in a wooden fence, and back out onto the street. There is a graveyard part to this, but I wasn't brave enough to go there at night. Either way, I would be back at my neighborhood before midnight.

This shortcut looked so much different in the dark. The lights on the streets called me to come towards them, but I remembered the nun's strict instructions. I took in a deep breath and turned right towards the darkness. As I normally did, I counted how many steps it would take me to get home. I tried not to look around as I walked through the alley. That night, the stars weren't even out. They probably were there, but I was more focused on trying to go home. I did good until I got halfway through the alley.

That's when the plan fell apart.

I had gotten just behind the Red Iris pub when I heard moaning from outside. I probably should have walked away, but curiosity got the better of me. I peeked in through the cracked back window. A man dressed in a nice suit sat on the sofa with his head thrown back, moaning. Another man was on all-fours in front of him. Six more guys stood around, stone-faced with shades on.